by C. R. Pugh
Leaning my head back against the tree trunk, I took a deep breath and tried to relax my body. All I needed now was to rest up for a bit and then put more distance between the soldiers and me. With a little skill and a lot of luck, I could shake these soldiers off my trail and finally head east, toward the coast, as I’d always longed to do. For eight long years, I had dreamed of my oceanfront home and the peace I hoped would be found there.
I had only ever told one soul of my dream. Kieron. I’d met him not long after I started living at the compound. We had trained together to be soldiers. He’d been my best friend; my confidante; the one person on this earth that I loved. He knew all my secrets. And then he betrayed me. There was a gaping hole still left in me from the damage he and the General had done. That dream was the one thing that had kept me alive.
As my body drifted off into sleep, I earnestly prayed that my nightmares would leave me alone.
***
Lifting my head off my knees, I opened my eyes. I had been in isolation now for five weeks. At least, I thought it’d been five weeks. It was hard to tell with no windows and no clock. General Wolfe couldn’t understand why it wasn’t driving me mad to remain alone for this length of time. I wasn’t going to clue him in.
The plain white gown I was wearing scratched my skin as I shifted positions in my cot. They had taken my clothes when they began their experiments on me. It was all part of the process of slowly breaking me, but they’d been unsuccessful so far.
It had been five weeks. I was almost positive.
The cameras watched me from the corners of the ceiling. They always watched. I didn’t look at them anymore, knowing that I would just be giving them something else to document. I stayed still and waited; waited and planned, just like every other day I sat in isolation. I waited for the opportunity to break out of this horrible place and find the freedom I had been longing for.
Maybe it’d been six weeks. Yes, it felt more like six weeks.
The tattoo on the back of my neck began to tingle. It tingled whenever danger was near. They were coming for me again, like they did every week. I could sense the gasses slowly seeping into the room from the vents in the ceiling. I continued to stay still, knowing that panicking and losing control did me no good. I would not give them anything more to document.
The gray smoke filled the room quickly. I fought hard against my natural instincts. In the beginning, I had tried to escape the gasses, pounding and clawing at the door, but it was only a waste of my precious energy. I had even tried to hold my breath a few times, but my starving lungs wouldn’t hold out for long.
Stretching out on the cot, I breathed evenly. I breathed in and then breathed out. I would not think about being strapped down to that table. I would not think about how he would cut me open for more of my blood. I breathed in and then breathed out.
It had definitely been longer than six weeks. It felt like forever.
The smoke filled my lungs. I clasped my chest to stop the burning, and then my eyes widened in a silent panic. I fought to remain in control, but tears filled my eyes against my will. I didn’t try to hide them anymore. They wouldn’t be able to see them through the smoke, anyway. My breath came in short gasps through my teeth as I forced my body to lie still on the cot. I wished they would just let me die this time. Just let me die, just let me die, just let me die …
***
I awoke from my slumber clutching my chest and gasping for breath. There was no burn. No smoke. My tattoo wasn’t tingling either. There was only a trace of the tears I’d been crying as I slept. I didn’t have an explanation for why my tattoo often tingled when danger was approaching. Perhaps it had been something in the ink the General had used or that the tattoo was directly on my spine. Maybe it only happened to the soldiers that had been marked. Did the others get that sensation when I was in close proximity to them? Regardless, it was my sixth sense and it had been effective.
Wiping my face with my sleeve, I took a deep, cleansing breath to shake off the nightmare. I’d probably slept for a couple of hours, at best. Thankfully, I was still lashed to the tree and my weapons were all accounted for. Daggers were hidden in each of my boots and a pistol was tucked into my belt at the small of my back.
Once my heart rate had slowed, I stuffed the rope back into my rucksack, double-checked my supplies, and climbed down to the ground.
My stomach clenched, needing nourishment, but I had to move on while it was still dark. I wanted to be long gone with no trail to follow. Slinging my bag over my shoulders, I started jogging east again, further away from the General. I was careful not to leave any tracks as I weaved in and out of the trees, avoiding the large roots jutting out of the ground. I stopped only once to lay down a false trail, hoping to merely keep the soldiers running in circles, if they happened to find it at all. I hoped they wouldn’t. I really did need a break from the running.
After an hour of hiking through the forest, my stomach’s painful groaning convinced me to stop. I’d reached a different part of the Valley. Even in the dark I could see that the trees were different. Before, the trees had been smaller and easy to climb with their many branches intertwined. In this part of the forest, there were no branches close to the ground at all. Sequoias. The Old Sequoia Valley was named for these giants. They seemed to grow a mile high and some of their trunks were three times as wide as I was tall. Climbing these trees was going to be nearly impossible.
I looked around for adequate cover. The overhead canopy blocked out most of the sunlight during the daylight hours, but there were still ferns and other shrubs on the ground where one could easily hide. A person could never be too careful in the Valley. Aside from beasts and soldiers, there were plenty of other dangerous people roaming around. I hadn’t quite figured out where they all came from. Were they children like me who had been kicked out of their clan and left to fend for themselves? Were they criminals that had been outlawed? Were they born out here? I hadn’t crossed paths with anyone that felt like chatting, so avoiding them ranked high on my list of priorities.
I pulled out the squirrel I had snared and roasted yesterday and devoured it. Once the sun came up I would need to hunt again, but for now, I ate what I had available. It was times like these I was thankful I had come from a clan like Terran. They had their faults, but every person in the clan learned how to recognize and gather nuts, berries, and other plants that were safe for eating. I had become an accomplished hunter of small game out of necessity, but I would have starved long ago if it hadn’t been for those plants.
The sound of water gurgling through the brush caught my attention. Once I gathered up my supplies and cleaned up all traces of my presence, I made my way toward the stream.
My eyes were constantly alert and aware of my surroundings as I cupped water into my mouth with my hand. Since I seemed to have lost the soldiers for the time being, I stripped off my clothing and quickly bathed.
I really tried not to complain too much about having to live in the great outdoors but, oh, how I missed being able to bathe on a regular basis – in warm water! I was constantly reminding myself that I would rather freeze to death in a river of ice-cold water than go back to my life with General Wolfe. I was dirty, but I was free, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
The stream was so refreshing I wanted to stay submerged in it the rest of the morning, but I didn’t have any time to waste. I dressed quickly in my black, long-sleeved shirt and black pants, pulled on my boots, and started hiking again.
Just before dawn, I was about to stop for another sleep when I heard a blood-curdling scream. The sound resonated deep in my gut and had me clutching at my chest for breath again, just like in my nightmares. I whipped my head this way and that, once again scoping the dark woods for enemies.
“Just breathe, Ravyn,” I whispered to myself, trying to calm my racing heart again.
Crouching down, I took a few deep breaths and wiped my clammy hands on my trousers. Once the initial panic subsided, I stoo
d up and instinctively started walking toward that scream. My feet skidded to a halt.
What are you doing? I thought. This is no time to play the hero.
I turned and marched in the opposite direction. Then I froze again. I looked back over my shoulder. Should I risk my life for someone that wouldn’t help me?
This was just curiosity, plain and simple. Whoever had screamed was probably dead by now.
I pursed my lips together, frustrated that I couldn’t just walk away. No one else would think twice about saving themselves. It could be a group of rabid barbarians or even some Howlers out for an early morning meal. Who would want to face that?
Just walk away, Ravyn, I told myself, and took another tentative step away.
My heart started racing again and my palms began to sweat. The sound of that cry couldn’t have been more than fifty yards away. What would it hurt to find out what was happening? I wouldn’t have to engage. I’d just peek through the bushes.
You’re so stupid, I mentally scolded myself. This is not your problem. Stop feeling so guilty!
I knew if it were me screaming like that, no one would be there to help me or even be strong enough to save me … but I would still hope.
Muttering a curse under my breath, I turned on my heel again and slid my gun out of my waistband. It wasn’t in me to abandon someone and walk away. But if I was going to attempt to save the poor soul, I would not blunder in like an idiot.
Creeping between the brush and the towering trees, I spotted two shadows standing in a clearing. From the looks of their broad shoulders and thick muscles, they both appeared to be men. It was difficult to see much more than that in the dark.
One of the men was looming over someone lying on the ground – possibly a girl or a small boy. I wasn’t too late. The person was still alive and struggling against his bonds. The other man was crouched down, digging through the victim’s things, searching for anything of value.
Wretched barbarians. They couldn’t leave anyone be. They didn’t appear to be armed – barbarians generally didn’t have access to weapons in the Valley – so I tucked my gun back into my belt and pulled out my dagger. There was no point in drawing the General’s soldiers down on my position with gunfire. I moved like a ghost, just as the General had trained me to do, prowling through the shadows until I was right behind the thief. Striking quickly, I used just enough force on the back of his head to knock him out, but not enough to kill him.
The other man heard his partner hit the ground with a thud and turned to see me standing over the unconscious body. Before he had a chance to react, I was striding toward him, dagger in hand. He swung his fist but I avoided it easily and smashed the pommel of my blade into his temple. He went down like a stone. There was no point in checking for his pulse. I knew he was dead.
Still gripping my blade, I stood over the two lifeless bodies on the grass. Now that I was closer, I could see that these men were not barbarians after all. They were too clean and their clothes too new. True barbarians didn’t wear much more than tattered rags. Even my own shirt and trousers were not as pristine as the garments these two men wore and I worked hard to keep myself clean. I supposed it was possible for barbarians to steal brand new clothes and shoes, but their bodies would still be caked in layers of grime. Barbarians completely lost their sense of self in the wilderness and became more like animals. These men looked fresh out of the bath.
Their shoes caught my attention as well. I knelt down and examined them more closely. They looked similar to my own, except they were almost brand new with barely any scuffs on them.
Both men had dark hair cut close to the scalp and no facial hair at all. Barbarians were not clean-cut like this. They had no tools to groom themselves or shave in the Valley so their hair tended to be long, tangled, and matted with dirt. Terran was the closest clan to this part of the Valley, just two or three days’ hike from here, but Terran men would not be dressed in these clothes and boots. To be honest, these men reminded me of the male soldiers from the compound. Could they have lived inside the compound? Maybe I had never crossed paths with them.
I studied their faces again. There was nothing familiar about them. They weren’t wearing the uniforms that General Wolfe issued to his soldiers, but that meant nothing. There were plenty of people inside the compound that were not soldiers, but still, it was strange …
A rustling in the brush broke my train of thought. Gripping my dagger a little tighter, I rose up into a defensive crouch and scanned the clearing once more. A young woman about my age stared up at me with wide, frightened eyes. This female was not a barbarian either. In the morning light I could see that her chestnut brown hair was somewhat tousled, but still clean and recently brushed. It fell straight to her shoulders, parted down the middle, and was tucked behind her ears. Her dark green shirt and brown pants were slightly frayed along the edges from wear, but still relatively clean, much like mine. The dirt on the palms of her hands suggested she might have been digging up edible plants that grew wild in the forest. She was a bit shorter than me and looked far too delicate to survive long in the Valley. There was no way she would have been able to defend herself against these sorts of men.
I relaxed my stance and bit back a foul curse when I saw that she’d been bound and gagged. General Wolfe had done this to me far too many times to count in the last year that I lived in the compound. No one deserved to feel that vulnerable.
She continued to struggle against the ropes, probably terrified she was about to be my next victim, so I slipped my blade back into my boot and approached her slowly with my hands stretched out in a peaceful gesture.
“I don’t mean you any harm.”
The woman nodded, but her eyes were still wide with fear. I understood. I wouldn’t be trusting of strangers either, especially after watching me murder someone.
“I can’t just leave you like this. Let me cut you free and then I’ll be on my way.”
Thankfully, she nodded her consent, so I inched closer and took the rag from her mouth.
“Thank you.” She glanced at the men on the ground nervously, then back at me. “Are they …? I mean, did you …?”
“This one is dead.” I nodded toward the man lying closest to us. “The other one will be out for hours.”
After cutting her bonds I backed away from her. I wasn’t a fool. This woman could be just as dangerous as the two thieves I had just taken down.
“Did they hurt you?” I asked.
“No, they didn’t get the chance, thanks to you.”
After glancing around to see that there was no sign of anyone having been here with her, I pointed out, “You know it’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”
She cocked her head to the side and smirked. “You’re out here alone.”
She was right, but I was a disturbingly excellent fighter. “I’m not safe either. I just get lucky a lot.”
“I’m not really alone,” she admitted, gathering her scattered possessions. “There’s a village not too far from here. I live there.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I didn’t remember there being a village in this area on the General’s maps. “Which clan is it?”
“Oh, it’s not a clan. Not yet, anyway.” She smiled again. Her eyes were a gentle brown that matched her hair. “There aren’t that many of us. We made our own clan, I guess. Most of us were banished from our previous clans.”
I bit my lip to keep from asking why she had been banished from her home. Many people had been taken in by the General because they’d been banished from their clans as well. It was nothing new. People grew tired of abiding by strict rules or silly superstitions. Some clans banished folks as a seasonal sacrifice to appease their gods. For some, it was done out of necessity, like in Terran. Of course, I was curious about her particular reasons, but if I inquired, then she would expect me to reciprocate in kind. Kieron always teased me about polite social protocol in the compound. He told me it was what normal people did. I wasn�
�t exactly normal. There were some secrets I didn’t want to share.
“And you’ve survived out here?” I asked instead. “It must be a large group.”
“We aren’t that large yet. Maybe forty people now?” she speculated.
I gaped at her. “Forty? That many were banished from your clan all at once?”
She giggled. “No, of course not. We collect strays – others who’ve been banished. My brothers have had their work cut out for them.”
“Brothers? As in ... more than one?”
She gave me a quizzical look. “Yes. They can be a trial sometimes, but -”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, interrupting her. “I’m glad for you … that you have people, I mean. Family.”
Her eyebrows knit together. I could sense she was puzzled by my comment. How could I explain my complicated family history? I pinched my lips together and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
Please don’t ask me about it, I thought, mentally scolding myself for bringing it up.
She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “My name’s Laelynn, by the way.”
“I’m Ravyn.”
The woman smiled as she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “You should come back with me, Ravyn.”
“I …” It was on the tip of my tongue to accept. My curiosity was getting the better of me. I bit my lip again and glanced around the clearing.
“Look, I can see that you want to,” Laelynn said with a grin.
I took a step back and crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “I don’t think so.”
“Where else is there to go? You’ve been banished too, haven’t you?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “I’m heading to the coast.”
“Sounds lonely.”
That comment nearly had me changing my mind. Then I remembered how she had mentioned collecting strays. Laelynn had probably had this conversation a hundred times, talking people into joining their village. How could she trust that they were good people and not murderers or something? How did she know they weren’t one of the General’s mindless soldiers?
